


Charitable Donation

by ladivvinatravestia



Series: 30 - 50 Feral Himbos [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 30 - 50 feral himbos, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, COVID-19, Classism, Ensemble Cast, F/F, Fertility Issues, Gender Roles, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Patriarchy, Racism, alcohol consumption, everyone is poly because witchers, no beta we die like men, rich white people being terrible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23829079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladivvinatravestia/pseuds/ladivvinatravestia
Summary: With the pandemic over, it’s time for everyone to think about what they want to do next.  Yenn and Triss are thinking about having a baby.  Lambert thinks he is helping. (No he doesn't.)
Relationships: Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: 30 - 50 Feral Himbos [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756468
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	Charitable Donation

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't decide whether I wanted this to be a modern-with-magic or modern-no-powers so it's ambiguous; Calanthe calls Jaskier by his birth name (but not to his face); Adda and Foltest are presented as a couple; there is a book/game spoiler re: Ciri’s parentage.

“So,” says Calanthe, taking a long swig from her beer bottle, “what’s everybody planning to do now that we’re finally allowed out of quarantine?”

It’s a beautiful late summer evening and they’re gathered to celebrate the end of the CDC’s pandemic declaration. Restrictions on gatherings of more than fifteen people have been lifted, and now Calanthe has invited a large group of people for a barbecue at Cintra Ranch. Yennefer leans back, which brings her closer to both Triss and to the bug-repelling gadget hooked over the backrest of the chaise longue they’re sitting on.

Triss puts an arm around her, and Yen tries to puzzle out the common thread tying together the people gathered here. It can’t be people still pretending to like Calanthe, or the crowd would be much bigger - especially with people hoping to get closer to Emhyr or Foltest. It can’t be people Calanthe is still pretending to like, or Yen and Triss themselves wouldn’t be here, and neither would Vesemir or any of his foster-sons, past or present. Maybe it’s - yes, people Calanthe is still amused by. She takes a sip of her sangria, satisfied. Across the circle, Eskel leans forward to poke the fire.

Pavetta and Adda, by seeming unspoken agreement, start stacking the dirty dishes from dinner to take into the house for cleaning. Yen exchanges a glance with Triss. That was a job they, too, had been expected to do from an early age, but they’d both decided early on that they wanted more out of life than a “social hostess” role.

“Well,” says Regis, swirling something red around in his glass, “Dettlaff is simply swamped. Triple the usual number of orders during the shutdown, if you can believe it. Seems lots of people were going through their old things and finding beloved old toys they’d rather refurbish than throw out. So he’ll be staying out of trouble for a while.” He looks over fondly at Dettlaff, who nods. “And I’ll be opening the practice back up. I did do some consulting by telepresence, of course, but there are still patients who went untreated long enough that their conditions are now much worse than if they could have been seen to sooner.”

“Well,  _ I _ for one am going to take a good, long break,” says Keira, downing the last of her glass of wine in one gulp.

“Me too,” agrees Shani. The skin around their eyes and across the bridges of their noses are still red and raw from many hours of wearing PPE.

“Package vacation in Cancun?” Keira suggests, lying back in her chair and closing her eyes.

“Sounds great,” says Shani, and opens another wine cooler.

Pavetta and Adda come back out of the house to gather more dishes, this time calling for Ciri and Adda Jr. to come help them. The girls, who have been running around and shouting with Dara and Johnny in the upper horse paddock, leave off playing reluctantly and head up to help, grumbling.

“Hunting trip,” says Aiden, and Lambert nods his agreement before taking a sip of his beer.

Priscilla says, “Jaskier and I wrote a whole new album.”

“Did you,” says Calanthe, in approximately the same tone she might use to question one of her dogs about what it rolled in in the field. Yen grits her teeth.

She’s sure that, if directly questioned, the most explanation anyone would ever get out of Calanthe would be something like “Why would Julian go into some bullshit career like music when he could have gone into the family business?,” or, just possibly, “But this stuff isn’t  _ real _ music; he was accepted to Julliard, you know.” But Yen and Triss have been introduced to Meve, and Anarietta, and Mrs. Pankratz, and enough other Ladies Who Lunch around here to predict the types of “compliments” they’ll get - “oh, your people are so  _ smart _ ,” “you’re so  _ articulate _ ,” “you have such  _ exotic _ good looks”. Yen can only imagine the kinds of things they dream up to say to Priscilla, whose skin is several shades darker than Triss’s.

Probably someone has, at some point, tried to explain that Jaskier and Priscilla met  _ at _ Julliard because they were the only two students in the lute program, but all anybody in this social circle can seem to focus on is how  _ not like them _ Priscilla looks. Priscilla, for her part, has chosen to lean into this by wearing clothes and hairstyles she seems to know instinctively will make Mrs. Pankratz and the others twitch. Yen herself favors Chanel, Vera Wang, and White House Black Market, but she’s been on many a gleeful clothes-shopping spree with Jaskier and Priscilla.

“Yes, so we’ll be spending the next month probably recording,” says Jaskier, so cheerfully that he must be intentionally ignoring Calanthe’s disdain. “And then I think we’re heading to the coast for a bit, right?”

He turns to Geralt for confirmation. Geralt nods. Then, somehow, they both take sips of their drinks in unison - beer for Geralt and sangria for Jaskier. Yen feels more of a pang of jealousy than she would like to admit. It’s stupid, really. She knows she and Geralt were no good for each other. This has to be at least the third time they’ve broken up, and this time, they’ve both managed to make it stick for more than just a couple of weeks. The quarantine helped, of course. Her relationship with Triss is still as solid as it ever was. She’s managed to stay friends with Jaskier and Priscilla, and as far as she can tell, Geralt hasn’t tried to break up with Jaskier out of self-loathing this time. Everything  _ should _ be good. Hell,  _ she’s _ the one who broke things off with Geralt. So why does she still miss him every time she sees him?

Pavetta and Adda come out of the house to seat themselves sedately by their husbands’ sides. There’s no sign of Ciri and Adda Jr. - presumably they have been drafted into washing dishes in the house.

Pavetta says, “Well, Adda and I will be putting together a benefit to help women who lost their jobs during the shutdown get new interview clothes -”

“- and Foltest and I will be back out on the campaign trail,” adds Emhyr with a smile.

Yen looks to Triss and sees that Triss is already glancing in her direction. They can’t be the only two people on the planet who think Emhyr is slimy and untrustworthy, right?

“It’ll be good to be back across the debate table from each other, yeah?” says Foltest, reaching out to punch Emhyr companionably on the arm.

Yenn and Triss share another look. Just another problem with the modern political system - how many voters realize the two opposing candidates spend their social time at the same barbecues?

Eist raises his beer bottle in a toast, and says, “And Yen and Triss are having a baby!”

There’s been a background hum of people having their own side conversations, but now the talking stops, and all eyes swivel toward Yenn and Triss.

“Ooh, girls, that’s so exciting!” coos Pavetta, clutching Emhyr’s arm.

Across the fire, Priscilla mouths, “What the fuck,” which is pretty much Yen’s reaction as well.

“When are you due?” asks Adda, sitting forward. “Oh, you have to let me help plan the gender reveal party, I know this  _ amazing _ planner -”

“Who’s the father?” asks Lambert, slanting a glance toward Geralt. Geralt shifts in his seat, looking uncomfortable.

“Never mind that,” drawls Calanthe, and takes another swig of her beer. “Who’s the mother?”

There’s general laughter from around the firepit.

“We’re not having a baby,” Yen snaps.

Eist blinks. “What? But Mousesack said -”

Mousesack blanches, as though he’s been found out as the source of the leak, but the thing is, neither Yen nor Triss have spoken to Mousesack about their plans, either. Yen brings a nail to her mouth to bite, trying to puzzle through who might have talked to Mousesack. It’s obvious the message got scrambled somewhere along the chain. She’s annoyed that the news has come out like this, but she supposes it won’t be much of a secret once she or Triss turns up pregnant. She squeezes Triss’s hand.

“We’ve been thinking about going to a fertility clinic,” explains Triss. “Regis wrote us the referral, and we had an appointment scheduled, but then it was cancelled because of - well, everything.” She waves her hand around in the air.

“Where do you get the sperm donors from?” asks Lambert. Eskel kicks him in the ankle. “Ow!”

“There’s websites where you can select donors by attributes like height, weight, blood type, and not being a complete douchebag,” says Yen.

“Ouch!” laughs Coen, and Aiden smacks Lambert on the arm. Geralt smirks into his beer.

“I’m just saying,” continues Lambert, “we could do it.” He indicates the gathered circle with his beer bottle.

“Do what, precisely?” asks Yen, her eyes narrowed.

“Be your sperm donors!” says Lambert gleefully. He has an unholy smile on his face. “Look at us. We’re all healthy,  _ manly _ specimens, with -”

“Lambert, I am  _ not _ letting you impregnate me,” Yen interrupts.

“Nor am I,” agrees Triss.

“No, no, no,” says Lambert. “We’d all, you know, jerk off into the same cup, and then you could shake it up -”

Yen risks a glance around the circle. Calanthe is covering the lower half of her face with her hand. Eist is grinning like he thinks it’s a great idea; Mousesack and Vesemir have diplomatically disappeared somewhere. Jaskier has his mouth hanging open in shock; Geralt is attempting to be very very interested in something on his phone. Priscilla, Shani, and Keira are all leaning forward, watching the train wreck in motion. Eskel, brave man that he is, is taking a swig of beer. Coen and Aiden seem amused and interested by the proposition; disappointingly but perhaps not surprisingly, so do Emhyr and Foltest. Regis and Dettlaff sit back, serenely surveying the chaos.

“-  _ really _ , Lambert?” interrupts Keira acerbically.

“Okay, well, are you all going to pay child support?” Yen shoots back, while Lambert is temporarily at a disadvantage.

It seems to work because he stops short, appearing not to have thought that far ahead.

“Yeah,” says Aiden, coming to his rescue, “we can all chip in, what, five bucks a month?” He looks around at the other guests.

“Five bucks? Sure,” says Coen.

“I can do five bucks,” says Lambert.

“Five -” begins Jaskier, before being silenced by a speaking look from Geralt.

“Sure,” smiles Foltest, “just add it to my regular monthly bill from the firm.”

Oh,  _ ugh _ . Yen pastes a fake smile on her face. “Speaking of which,” she says sweetly, “I didn’t want to interrupt the good time we were all having here, but unfortunately I did just get an email a couple minutes ago and I’m going to have to go back in.” She stands up and extends a hand to Triss.

“What,  _ now _ ?” asks Calanthe.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” says Yen apologetically, “you know how it is.” There was, of course, no such email, but it’s a common enough occurrence in BigLaw that nobody thinks to question it. She helps Triss to her feet, and then they make their way around the circle of guests, giving the obligatory goodbye hugs and handshakes. When she gets round to Geralt, he hangs back awkwardly until Jaskier pushes him forward, at which point he gives Yen an awkward hug. It shouldn’t make her heart hurt quite as much as it does, damn it. Jaskier gives her an extra squishy, lingering hug, that doesn’t quite make up for it, but does at least remind her that there’s someone else who understands how she feels. 

She saves Lambert for last. He grins and gives her a hearty hug, patting her on the back just like he would one of his foster brothers.

“Lambert,” she says, grabbing him - not quite by his balls, not in this particular mixed company, but by his belt buckle, which should send her message anyway.

“Yes, Yen?” he says, somewhat strangled.

“If you ever suggest anything like that, ever again,” she tells him in an undertone, “I will castrate you like a prize hog.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Yen didn't want to open this can of worms in this crowd, but actually when you go on sperm donor websites you are also able to select your donor by skin, hair, and eye color, occupation, and ethnic background. When I, a White PersonTM, went for my consult, I was told I could choose any donor I wanted, "as long as he's white." I did ask why, but I was far too busy being outraged to absorb whatever answer I was given. I'm not sure I want to contemplate what kind of restrictions Yen and Triss might be given on what kind of donor the clinic thinks they should pick.
> 
> Visit me on [tumblr](https://ladivvinatravestia.tumblr.com)


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